


The Aftermath...

by cleo4u2



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, Fix-It, M/M, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Winter Soldier!Peggy, background Peggy/Natasha, cap!bucky, post Avengers 4, the MCU if everyone was allowed to just be fucking happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: The Avengers use the Time Stone to change the past, stopping Thanos from ever acquiring the infinity stones. It changes everything. The past, the future, and who they are. This is not that story. This is how they find Steve.My post-Avengers 4 fix-it-fic





	1. Bucky Barnes, AKA Captain America

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, [Kajmere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajmere/pseuds/Kajmere)! Hope you enjoy your Secret Santa gift =)
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile) for being our Glow Cloud and beta. I don't know what we'd do without you. Additional thanks to Perfectlyimperfect42 for the Alpha read. Clutch, babe

Bucky tucked away the errant strand of hair that had fallen out of neat knot atop his head. As he did, he caught a glimpse of the dirt beneath the nails of his left hand and grimaced. The old house he’d bought a mile from the Avengers compound in upstate New York needed a lot of work, work that left him filthy. He hadn’t ever lost the part of him that needed to be clean and look good, though. Not the war, not losing Steve, not waking up in a new century had managed to defeat the disgust he felt at being dirty. OCD wasn’t a good look on Captain America, though, so he was glad no one was around to see.

Except…

Straightening to his full height, Bucky followed the prickling on the back of his neck with his gaze. A familiar looking man of his height was standing on the other side of his fence, watching him with an odd smile. His dark blond hair was a mess from where he had run his hands through it, but his tan jacket, white shirt, and pale blue jeans were immaculate. The eyes stood out, eyes as blue as Steve’s, and made something old and painful clench in his chest.

Noticing Bucky’s gaze, the man rubbed at his full beard and then waved. Friendly, then, if still very strange.

“Hey there,” Bucky called. “Can I help you?”

“Um,” the man said, and the pain in Bucky’s chest turned into a vice at the sound of that voice, “no.”

Long, delicate fingers pushed through his hair, somehow making it worse. Bucky couldn’t speak, could only stare. The beard had thrown him off, but the voice he knew. He still dreamt of it now and then, though he hadn’t been there to say goodbye as Steve crashed a plane full of bombs into the ocean. Bucky had taken his moniker when he found himself in the new millennium, but he hadn’t gotten over knowing Steve had died alone.

Yet, he couldn’t make his mouth work to say the name on the tip of his tongue: Steve.

“Not sure why I’m even still here, to be honest,” Steve said, looking around as if he’d never seen a house before and Bucky’s was a palace, not a ramshackle fixer-upper. “Everyone else is gone… but I wanted to see you before I go, too.”

“Go?” Bucky took a step forward, into the hole he had been digging, and stumbled forward without taking his eyes off Steve. “But you just got here.”

Steve smiled at him, soft and pleased.

“You look good, Buck. I’m… I’m real glad I got to see you one last time.” His gaze flicked to Bucky’s left side and his eyes softened. “Real glad.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, didn’t understand why Steve had to go anywhere if he was _here_. His feet took him up and over the picket fence surrounding his house, once white, but now chipped and grey. Then he was bowling into Steve, solid and big and warm, wrapping him in his arms and squeezing tight. Steve held him back just as hard, pressing his face into Bucky’s neck and breathing him in.

“Where’ve you _been_?” Bucky demanded, unashamed of the catch in his voice.

Steve chuckled.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He sighed and slumped, leaning hard against Bucky, as he whispered, “You’re really okay.”

“Of course I’m okay,” Bucky pulled back, cupping the back of Steve’s head so he could get a good look at him. There were more lines around his eyes and mouth than he remembered; a sadness that seemed to swim just beneath his skin. Wherever he had been, it hadn’t been kind to him. Something wasn’t right. “Stevie?”

“Sorry,” Steve sniffed and plastered a smile on his face, “you just look so good.”

“You said that.” Bucky pulled Steve forward, bumping their foreheads together. “What’s going on? You’re starting to scare me here.”

The sadness leeched into Steve’s eyes and his mouth pulled down at the corners.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Steve –“ Bucky tried to interrupt, but something wild came to life in Steve and he didn’t stop to let Bucky speak.

“Something bad happened; something really bad. Half of everyone – He killed half of _everyone_ , Buck. The whole world, the universe,” Steve’s palm pressed against Bucky’s heart, “you. We weren’t sure if it would work, but it did. It must have, because you’re here. You’re fine. You-”

“Look good?” Bucky teased, though his heart was pounding in his chest. What sense Steve was making only left Bucky terrified, like he was about to lose Steve just after finding him again.

“Yeah.” Steve breathed the word, soft and over-fond. Then he blinked, blue eyes turning sharp. “What do you mean, I just got here?”

Bucky frowned.

“The Valkyrie? You went down in the plane, Steve. I thought – They said - You were dead.”

Steve went utterly still, his gaze dropping to Bucky’s chest. “Oh,” he said, so soft and sad. For a moment, Bucky thought he was reacting to his statement. Then Bucky looked down to see Steve’s hand was _disappearing_. Inch by inch, his fingers and palm just faded away like they’d never been there at all.

“Steve?!” Bucky half-shouted, panic gripping his chest. “What’s happening?”

“It’s… it’s a paradox,” Steve said, staring in disappointment at his body slowly vanishing before their eyes. “We can’t exist where we already exist. I told you, the others are already gone. I thought I was still here because I didn’t make it through the war, but if…”

Steve was gone from fingertip to elbow, foot to knee. Bucky gripped his shoulders hard, but he somehow didn’t feel so solid any more.

“This isn’t happening,” Bucky choked out. “You just got back.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice turned urgent and his arms reached for Bucky, but there wasn’t anything to reach out with anymore, “this means I’m not dead!”

Helplessly, Bucky clung to Steve’s jacket, watching as his torso somehow floated in midair. No legs, no arms now, just a wild look on his beautiful face.

“This isn’t happening,” Bucky repeated as tears threatened to blind him.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted. “I’m not dead! Do you understand? I’m _not dead_. I’m still in the plane!”

“What?” Bucky sobbed, trying to understand, to focus on Steve and not the overwhelming dread and terror threatening to drown him. “Steve, you’re _disappearing_.”

“It’s a paradox,” Steve said, his voice as excited as if they were ten and Bucky’d been given an extra dime to get them both ice cream. “I’m not dead. You can find me!” The jacket vanished from between Bucky’s fingers like it had never existed. “The Valkyrie. I survived the crash and I’m still there – trust me, Bucky please –“

There was nothing left of Steve but a floating head, a head that somehow swooped down and kissed him hard, hard and quick. Bucky froze, eyes half-closed, lips parted, shocked to feel Steve’s lips on him. He’d loved Steve forever, pined like a fool over his best friend. They’d never kissed, but Steve…

Bucky opened his eyes. There was no one there. Only the tingle of his lips and the footprints in the dirt said it hadn’t all been a dream.


	2. Tony Stark, AKA Iron Man

Tony scowled at Captain America, not wanting to admit he was intrigued by the story he was telling. The story sounded impossible. A deceased national icon come back from the dead only to disappear again? Fat chance. Only, Barnes might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.

Barnes had gathered them in Tony’s workshop after a panicked, nonsensical phone call. Admittedly, the story in person didn’t make much more sense, but Tony still remembered his fear at hearing Barnes – unflappable, steady, sarcastic Barnes – crying and near begging for help. Something clearly had happened, but what Barnes said simply wasn’t possible. The Winter Soldier, The Black Widow, and Agent Carter were exchanging looks that said they agreed.

“Peggy,” Barnes said, turning toward the world’s deadliest assassin, “it’s _Steve_. If there’s any chance he’s alive, we have to help him.”

“Bucky,” Natasha said slowly, “don’t you think it’s more likely this is some trap laid out by Hydra?”

“It was _him_ ,” Barnes snapped. Then he threw up his hands and faced Peggy Carter again. “Peggy, for God’s sake, after everything you went through, if they have Steve, we have to help him. Of all people, you can’t leave him there.”

The Winter Soldier’s metal arm recalibrated, catching Tony’s attention. Peggy wouldn’t let him take a look at it, too skittish after all her time being experimented on, so Tony had never been able to sate his curiosity. Now the arm was as distracting as a screaming toddler.

Natasha sighed at the sound. It was one thing talking Barnes out of a plan, but talking Barnes _and_ Peggy down? Impossible.

Agent Carter glanced at her aunt and then looked back to Barnes. “Tell us again what he said.”

Taking a breath, Barnes did, but this time more slowly. He repeated the conversation, not glossing over what had been said. When he got to the part about a paradox, something sparked in Tony’s brain, and he tapped his screwdriver against the table absently.

He supposed, if someone went back in time and changed the future, the universe could remove the source of the paradox. No one knew, of course, as time travel hadn’t been invented yet, but it wasn’t actually out of the realm of possibility: Steve Rogers, the original Captain America, coming from somewhere else in time to fix something terrible that had killed Barnes and half the world. That would change a lot of things, too much for the space-time continuum to allow duplicate people existing. Assuming, of course, the theory of multiple, parallel realities was false. And assuming there was only one reality.

“And if there is a space-time continuum,” Tony muttered. They were internal words that made it into the world, but it caught Barnes’ attention like a hawk spotting prey.

“What?” Barnes said sharply. “What was that?”

The damned pleading look in his eyes crushed what resistance Tony had not to say his completely untested, unproven theory out loud.

“If he traveled through time, changed the timeline, he would have created a paradox. Steve Rogers could, theoretically, not exist as you met him and then what happens? The space time-continuum can’t allow a paradox like that. So…” Tony spread his hands in a ‘poof’ gesture, “no more time traveler, only this timeline’s Steve Rogers.”

“Who thinks he’s alive, in the Valkyrie,” Agent Carter said slowly.

“The plane crashed,” Peggy said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Steve couldn’t have survived that, even with his enhancements.”

“Unless,” Tony said slowly, liking the idea as it formed in his mind. His words came out faster as he warmed to the possibilities. “Yeah, no; he wasn’t that high up. He could have survived the impact. He could have, and healed up.”

“That was eighty years ago,” Natasha insisted. “Even if he survived, he would have drowned, or frozen –“

They all fell silent, the word frozen making everything probable become likely. Barnes had survived to the millennia, frozen in ice in the Alps. Peggy had been cryogenically frozen for years at a time, taken out only when Hydra needed their Fist, until she had finally escaped to save their bacon from Project Insight. The one commonality between Peggy and Bucky was their enhancements, an imperfect serum [that fucking glasses-wearing fucker] had created from Erskine’s original. The one given to Steve Rogers.

“If you two could survive,” Agent Carter said into the stillness of the moment.

“Then so can Steve,” Barnes finished. “I _told_ you. He’s _alive_.”

Tony cursed, then rubbed his eyes. “This means my dad wasn’t crazy for looking all those years.”

He rubbed harder, hating that now he was going to have to pick up where Howard Stark had left off. He had to, though. If there was any chance Steve Rogers was alive, they weren’t leaving him frozen to any supervillain to find.

“Tony,” Barnes began, so Tony clapped his hands and straightened. They were not having a pep talk about his daddy issues. Nope, no way. Especially not with The Winter Soldier who killed Tony’s father (and her best friend) present.

“Let’s get to work!” Tony interrupted. “I’ll go find my dad’s search grids. Agent, you see what S.H.I.E.L.D. has on the Valkyrie crash. Probably nothing I don’t have, but let’s cover all our bases. Capscicle and Murder Bot,” Peggy growled, but Tony ignored this, “go through the Hydra files in case they had anything on the Valkyrie. Ms. Rushmore,” Tony looked at Natasha and paused. The look of murder in _her_ eyes was something he was actually afraid of. “Do… whatever you want.”

“I will,” she said coldly.

“Um,” Tony scrambled, thrown for a moment, then clapped his hands again. “And break!”

“Break what?” Peggy asked, missing the football reference due to her unfortunate Britishness or cultural ignorance.

“Nothing,” Natasha sighed. “I’ll explain later.”

“Where are you headed?” Agent Carter asked as they turned, two sleek black figures in cat suits. Same height, same build, but different brightly colored hair.

“Wakanda,” Natasha answered, because Tony hadn’t asked the question. He scowled at their backs, but kept silent because he did want to know the answer. “Thor’s there. Between him and Shuri, they have to have _something_ to find a giant plane.”

“That’s my job!” Tony blurted, affronted at the implication he couldn’t figure this out on his own.

Natasha actually paused, Carter a half-step behind her.

“You find us a general search area, Tony,” she commanded. “Someone else will have the tech to find the damn plane.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth, so he held back his protest. “It’s not that you can’t, it’s that it will be faster if we work together.”

Faster, right. Tony did not glance at Barnes or Peggy, but it was a hard thing.

“Fine,” he said, just a beat too slow.

They turned to leave again, but Carter called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry Tony, we know you could do it all on your own if you had to.”

“Yay teamwork,” Tony sighed, but appreciated the words. Teamwork hadn’t come easy to him, but he knew Natasha was right. Two groups working on separate projects for the same goal would get them Steve Rogers faster than any other plan. Time was on their side, but Barnes and Peggy weren’t likely to be rational about this. They sure hadn’t been about each other.

“Tony,” Barnes said, pulling Tony’s thoughts back to the moment.

“Hmm?” he said, but he was already turning his thoughts back to the problem at hand and the possibilities of time travel. God, if it was real, Bruce was going to shit a brick.

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony paused mid-step, looking over at Barnes and Peggy. The gratitude emanating from the both had anxiety crawling at his chest. There was nothing special here; he was just doing what he was good at.

“Yeah, sure thing,” he hedged, making himself smile as he backed toward the storage rooms on the other side of the Tower. “Can’t resist getting the trinity of World War Two vets, can I?” He gestured, hoping they’d drop it. “An original Howling Commando, the only female SSR officer, and now the OG Cap himself. Can’t wait to see you old people reminisce.”

Tony had made it far enough that he could turn and walk away before either Peggy or Barnes could respond. That was good. Now he could focus on finding Steve Rogers, and, he realized, succeeding where his father had failed. Huh, wasn’t that something.


	3. Peggy Carter, AKA The Winter Soldier

It still surprised the Soldier whenever she found something that caused her pain. Not physical pain; _that_ she tolerated without a blink, if she noticed it at all. Emotional pain, though, had been either beaten out of her, or wiped away to one degree or another. At least, that’s what she’d think until moments like _this_.

They’d found the Valkyrie three days after Bucky’s interaction with the time traveler. Tony called him The Steve That Never Was, Bucky just called him Steve, but Peggy couldn’t think of the stranger Bucky described as the Steve she’d known. She had loved him fiercely, even though his heart had always belonged to Bucky (not that Barnes had ever _noticed_ ), and he’d loved her the only way he could. It had been enough. She’d been happy keeping his secret even now, after Hydra, after everything else.

Looking at Steve now, frozen in a block of ice at the back of the cockpit, broke her heart. She remembered his final words, the dancing date, the fear and bravado, but she had never pictured this. Not his body, frozen in ice, lips blue, looking for all the world like he was dead. No, dead would have been fine.

Peggy had always pictured Steve dead in the cockpit. Maybe still strapped in, hands on the joysticks, eyes closed and peaceful. Now she knew better. Now she knew he had survived the initial crash. Now she knew he’d gotten up, walked to the back of the cockpit, and laid down to die. Maybe it had been a short wait, but he had waited. He’d lost Bucky, fallen into the ocean, and given up.

Steve Rogers had _given up_.

“You think he’ll be…” Bucky trailed off, arms crossed across the white star of his – of Steve’s – uniform. “You know.”

Peggy did know. Just because they’d found his body, didn’t mean Steve was alive. When they defrosted him, he could just be plain old dead. She didn’t know what she’d do then. She was pretty sure Bucky would have a break down. He’d pinned so many hopes to this, in the time traveler, and in a kiss.

“Yes,” the Soldier lied. It was what Bucky needed to hear, even if she wasn’t sure. Steve had gotten the better serum, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hoping for a miracle.

They stood in silence. Peggy liked that about Bucky; he let her just be, observe, not feel a need to fill the room with noise. There was a lot of noise, from the technicians, from their equipment, but that wouldn’t stop most people. Barton, Stark, Thor; they felt a need to talk. Agent Carter liked to use these moments to get intel, or leverage. Bucky just stood, solid and near, watching with her as S.H.I.E.L.D. slowly melted the ice from Steve’s lifeless body.

A few inches left and they’d know if Steve could breathe.

“He couldn’t fight without you,” Peggy said, surprising herself by speaking. Bucky’s body went rigid, but something kept her speaking. “He lost you, lost himself, and let the ice take him.”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky growled, but Peggy didn’t take offense at his tone. She understood; she didn’t want to believe it either.

“I know.” Peggy crossed her arms, fingers brushing the knife hilts tucked in their places, reassuring herself that she could handle a surprise attack. Hydra was mostly gone, but mostly wasn’t gone. “He loved you.”

Bucky’s head bowed and Peggy’s mouth said, “He’ll be fine.”

Silence, no longer companionable. Bucky didn’t lift his head, didn’t move. A real person, Peggy thought, would offer comfort, something more than words. Peggy was not a real person, but she could fake it. They’d made sure of that.

Carefully, she wrapped her arm around Bucky’s waist. Without a word, he put his own arm around her shoulders. It was… nice. Her own worries for Steve loomed a little farther away. Comfort, the Soldier thought, was nice.

“He’ll be okay,” Peggy said again, and this time it sounded more convincing to her own ears. “What was it you two used to say? ’Til the end of the line?”

Bucky laughed a short, aborted sound. “Yeah. Yeah, that was it. He tell you that while you were... fondue-ing?”

“Shut up,” Peggy huffed, rolling her eyes.

“What? You don’t fondue anymore?”

Peggy thought of Natalia, of her long lines, pale skin, red hair framing her perfect face. “Howard was the kinky one,” she said.

“I own a fondue pot.” Peggy looked up at Bucky, surprised. “What?” He hadn’t looked her way. “Melted cheese, chocolate; how can you go wrong?”

Peggy had no answer to that, so she said nothing.

“It’s a bitch to clean, though.”

A shout of, “He’s breathing!” from a technician made Peggy’s heart skip a beat, than two. Barnes’ arm tightened around her, making it easier to feel the tremor that ran through his side.

“God,” he whispered. “Thank you, God. Oh… Oh, Jesus, _Steve_ …”

Peggy tightened her hold on his waist and said nothing. They had their miracle; there was nothing to say.


	4. Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America

A ballgame was playing on the radio. The Yankees, an unfamiliar announcer, barely covering the sounds of the city streets. Steve frowned, wondering how they’d gotten an American radio signal in Europe. Someone was holding his hand – no, two people were holding both his hands. He frowned harder, but didn’t open his eyes. Something wasn’t right, something that itched at the back of his mind. Something important. Something…

_The Valkyrie._

Steve opened his eyes and stared up at an unfamiliar, beige ceiling. The ballgame kept going, but the hands holding his tightened as one. He didn’t look down, not right away, not when he couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten here. Had they found him? Had he survived the water?

No… no he _remembered_ drowning.

“Steve?” Peggy’s voice reached him and he flicked his eyes to his left. She looked different. Older around the eyes and mouth, though he liked the way her hair was straight, hanging loose about her face. Her brown eyes shown oddly, a look or emotion he didn’t know burning within.

“Pegs?” Steve asked. “What…?”

The hand on his right tightened painfully and Steve swung his head over in time to watch Bucky bury is face in his free hand and start crying. Bucky, who was dead. Steve had watched him fall. Steve had failed him, failed to catch him, but he’d never forget that face - nothing could make him forget - and there he was, alive, by Steve’s bedside.

Gasping, heart pounding, Steve pulled away from Peggy, sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Yanking on Bucky’s arm, he pulled him close. “Bucky,” he whispered, shocked and awed at this miracle. Still sobbing, Bucky threw himself at Steve, into his arms, and buried his face against his shoulder. The shirt he was wearing was thin and soon soaked through, but Steve didn’t care. He held onto Bucky just as hard, and did his damnedest not to cry right along with his best friend.

His voice wavered as he confessed, “God, I thought you were dead.”

Behind him, Peggy laughed. Then the mattress dipped and small, strong arms wrapped both him and Bucky in a hug. “We thought _you_ were dead. Oh, Steve, it’s been _so long_.”

Steve wondered how long was long, but didn’t ask. There would be a time for questions and this wasn’t it. He kissed the top of Bucky’s head, kissed Peggy’s, and held on. Bucky wasn’t dead, Peggy was here, they were somehow in America. Somehow, he hadn’t died. Nothing could stop him from enjoying this moment or holding on to the people he loved as long as they’d let him.

\---

“2018,” Steve repeated. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Bucky or Peggy, it was just… It was just eighty _years_. Both Bucky and Peggy looked like they’d aged half a dozen, at best. They should have both been one hundred, if his math was right. 1950 at most, not… not 2018.

“Do I need to go buy a newspaper?” Bucky drawled, raising an eyebrow. Steve wanted to kiss him; he had missed him so damn much.

Steve shook his head. “No, just… It’s a long time. How are you both…?”

“Alive?” Peggy finished as a shadow crossed her face. “A has lot happened, Steve. It’ll be best if Bucky explains it.”

“Hey,” Bucky said as Steve said, “Wait,” but Peggy was already getting to her feet. 

Reaching out, Peggy took Steve’s face in her hands and kissed his forehead. It was a chaste, sweet thing, and certainly not what Steve expected. They’d discussed dancing and a date last they’d spoken, but this felt like goodbye.

“I don’t want to see your face when you hear what I’ve done,” Peggy whispered.

Balking, Steve quickly said, “I don’t care what you’ve done.” 

Peggy just smiled, tight and hard, her eyes like onyx. Steve shook his head again; this was _Peggy_. She was the best woman Steve had ever known, excluding his momma. Yet, Bucky wasn’t arguing like Steve was. He just frowned at her as silence settled on the room.

“Fine,” Bucky said, at last breaking the tension, “but you owe me, Carter.”

“This is not completely unnerving,” Steve said, trying to joke. Neither Bucky, nor Peggy laughed. Peggy just kissed him robotically on the cheek, turned, and walked out.

“What the _hell_ ,” Steve said, turning to Bucky. It was not a question; he wanted answers.

Bucky blew out a hard breath. “Real long story,” he said and sighed. It was a bone-weary sound that Steve remembered from the bad days after recovering Bucky from Hydra’s weapons factory. “She’s… Hydra had her.” Steve’s gut clenched. “They… they made her do some real bad things. Tried to make her a weapon, but she was strong. She got herself out, helped bring them down. I’ll tell you the details if you want, but… I don’t think you’ll want to know, Steve. Nothing you could have done about it.”

 _Unless I hadn’t crashed that plane_ , Steve thought. He didn’t say it aloud, though. Logically, he knew it had been the only choice. Anything else would have meant the destruction of the entire eastern coast of the United States. Logic didn’t keep his gut from twisting. There may not have been another choice, but he loved Peggy, and if he’d been there, he could have done something to keep her safe.

“Is she…” Steve trailed off and cleared his throat. “How’s she doing?”

“Better than I did.” Bucky shrugged, then climbed from his chair and bumped into Steve as he sat beside him on the bed. The bump was on purpose, but Steve didn’t mind, not when they were pressed so tightly together. “It’s hard, but this millennium is better equipped to help people like us. They don’t sweep it under the rug, or let you pretend you’re fine.”

“Buck,” Steve said, the guilt twisting like a knife.

Bucky bumped into him again, then carefully laid his hand in Steve’s. Palm to palm, fingers slowly lacing together, one by one. Steve’s heart tried to beat out of his chest as he watched, hypnotised. They were friends, sure, but this was a different kind of affection than a hug.

“You did your best by me, Steve.” The hand in his own squeezed gently, but didn’t let go. “I didn’t do myself any favors by faking that everything was normal. You knew that, you tried to get me to talk, but I… I needed to be okay, even if I wasn’t.” 

Steve bit his lip, not sure what to say. He settled for bumping into Bucky’s side.

“You faked it pretty well.”

Snorting, Bucky rolled his eyes.

“No, I didn’t.”

Steve let himself smile.

“No, you didn’t.”

Bucky seemed more mesmerized by their clasped hands than Steve, as Steve couldn’t help looking up at Bucky’s face every few seconds. Conversely, Bucky stared like his hands were a target down the center of his scope.

“I’m okay now. Mostly okay,” he amended. “Better now,” another gentle squeeze, “with you back.”

Steve swallowed.

“If you feel half of what I feel, seeing you alive…”

He trailed off as Bucky finally looked up and smiled. The sight stole Steve’s breath away; that smile hadn’t graced Steve’s vision in years. The Stark Expo, Steve thought, when he was staring at that damned flying car. He was so damned beautiful. 

Bucky’s entire being brightened, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his dimples shining. “You don’t say?” he drawled, and Steve realized he’d said the last aloud.

Flushing as his heart leapt into his throat, Steve nodded once. Those were not words he’d wanted to pass into the air between them. They were safer locked in his head and heart where the world couldn’t tarnish them with its hate. 

“Bucky,” he started, but stopped because Bucky looked so happy. He was alive and he was happy. Steve’s heart beat so hard it had to be audible in the tiny bedroom. This was more than a miracle, it was a dream come true. “Did I… Are we sure I'm not dead?”

Bucky laughed, head tipped back, throat exposed. The sound was like music, as heartfelt and pure as if Bucky were still a young man who had never seen the war. He leaned heavily against Steve’s side, head falling against his shoulder as the joyful sound tumbled unendingly from his lips. It went on so long, Steve finally got his head together and managed to stop staring like his eyes had fallen out of his skull. 

“Alright,” he grumbled, but that just seemed to set Bucky off all over again. Rolling his eyes, Steve bumped Bucky, to no avail. Another, harder, shove had him falling back, spread out along the mattress. Steve just sighed; if he couldn’t get Bucky to stop, he could at least enjoy the show. 

Lying back, he propped himself up on his elbow and waited. As he did, he took in the rest of Bucky. He was thicker than Steve remembered, though it didn’t look like fat. No, Bucky looked built like a tank, rippling with muscles beneath his clothes. His thighs in particular stretched the fabric of his pants, daring it to split and offer a peep show. The long hair was another change, but fell softly around Bucky’s face and shoulders, helping that younger look happiness offered. 

Thankfully, not everything was different. Bucky’s hands were the same, his eyes, his voice, and the shape of his jaw. After decades sketching those features, it was no wonder Steve had recognized Bucky right away. Even the certainty he’d felt just the other day - century? - that Bucky was dead hadn’t kept the truth from Steve’s eyes. It was Bucky, his Bucky, and his Bucky was happy that Steve thought he was beautiful. 

His Bucky was holding Steve’s hand.

Sucking in a breath, Steve leaned forward so his face was just above Bucky’s. The instant cessation of sound lent credence to the fluttering butterflies in Steve’s stomach. This closeness was new, it was special, it was.... It _might_ be confirmation that he wasn’t alone in harboring illegal desires. 

There was one sure way to find out.

Steve closed the last few inches between them, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. Though he sucked in a breath, Bucky didn’t move. He let Steve kiss him - a slow press of warm lips to cold - and happiness exploded in Steve’s chest. 

Pulling back, reveling in the feel of Bucky’s chapped lips lingering along his own, he stared into Bucky’s pale blue eyes. Joy remained, along with awe, and Steve let himself smile. Then he kissed Bucky again, this time with more purpose, and Bucky responded with a soft, barely audible moan as his lips moved against Steve’s. Since this was one of the handful of kisses under Steve’s belt, he let Bucky take the lead when a soft, wet tongue teased his lips. It traced his lower lip, then the upper, before Bucky’s hands were in his hair, holding him close as he kissed Steve harder.

“Fuck,” Bucky hissed against Steve’s lips. 

“Bucky,” Steve murmured.

Neither said more. Their mouths did the talking, learning each other like that should have done years before. Their kisses drifted between soft and sweet, to hot and hard, with everything in between. Bucky taught Steve tricks with his tongue and teeth he hadn’t imagined possible. It left him hard and aching, but neither took that final step, instead lying side by side in each others’ arms in bliss that didn’t need sexual gratification.

 _Heaven on Earth_ , Steve thought as he hooked his leg over Bucky’s hip. _A perfect happy ending._

**Author's Note:**

> Come and visit me on... places...
> 
> Tumblr: [cleo4u2](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com)  
> Pillowfort: [Cleo4u2](https://www.pillowfort.io/Cleo4u2)  
> Twitter: [Cleo4u2](https://twitter.com/Cleo4u2)  
> 


End file.
